Breanna

“Take picture, it’ll last longer,” she said without looking away from the clothes she was arranging on the rack in front of her.

“Excuse me?” I said defensively even though I knew exactly why she said it. I felt the blood rise in my cheeks. She had caught me staring at her ass.

“If you’re going to stand there and stare, you should just take a picture,” she repeated. “But if you want my phone number, you should just ask for it.”

“I would very much like to have your phone number,” I answered, still flustered at being caught staring.

“I’ll give it to you,” she said, “but you have to promise me you won’t text me pictures of your penis. My mother looks at my phone from time to time and it wouldn’t go well for you if she found you distributing pornography to a minor since I’m only seventeen.”

Her candor was refreshing and though I was initially attracted to her because she had, in my opinion, a perfect ass, I was beginning to sense that I was going to find her attractive on so many more levels.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked after we exchanged names and numbers.

“Anything,” I answered.

“Really?” she asked, feigning surprise. “You’re brave enough to answer anything I ask you?”

“May-be,” I answered hesitantly.

“Why were you staring at my ass?”

“Because it is absolutely wonderful!” I said with enthusiasm. She was wearing yoga pants that fit like skin and left nothing to the imagination, and though her butt was a little larger than those I was normally entranced by, it stood firm and proud. A pair of tight jeans might give the illusion of a firm derriere; yoga pants told the truth. “I want it.”

“You do realize that my ass is attached to the rest of me, right? I come as a package deal. You’ll be stuck with all of me.”

“If you’re trying to discourage me, it won’t be that easy,” I said.

“Well, it just so happens that I could use a ride home from work tonight. If you spring for McDonalds first, I might let you take pictures of my butt.”

“Um. Okay,” I answered, somewhat taken aback by her last remark.

“Meet me out front at 5:30.”

“It’s a date!” I said, grinning like an idiot. It occurred to me that she was completely running the show, but I wasn’t complaining. I couldn’t have done it better myself.

I was in front of the Buy-Mart at a quarter past five. Savannah was not. I didn’t expect her to be, so I wasn’t worried. When 5:35 rolled around and she still hadn’t shown up I started getting nervous. At 5:40, I was just beginning to get a sinking feeling, thinking I’d been stood up, when I got a text message that she was on her way out and sorry for being late.

Savannah spotted me as soon as she exited the building and I hurried to open the door for her.

“Ooh, a gentleman,” she purred.

“I’ll probably forget how to do that by the time we get to your house,” I quipped.

“That’s fine,” she said, pushing back a lock of hair. “It’s not one of my hang-ups.”

“What are your hang-ups?”

“I’m kind of a control freak,” she answered. “I get really uncomfortable when I feel like things are out of control—which segues into my next hang-up. I’m kind of clingy. Now that we’ve started a relationship, I’ll be stuck to you like gum on the sole of your shoe. You’ll have to give up all your other girlfriends and focus on me.” She sprouted a grin to soften the severity of what she had said, but we both understood that she was completely serious.

“So, we’re in a relationship and going steady all in the space of five minutes?” I queried, just as a test.

“Isn’t it amazing? And if things go the way I hope, we’ll be practically married about two hours from now!”

It kind of sounded like she was joking, but I knew that she wasn’t. Savannah was all-in already. I considered what that might mean as I drove us to McDonalds. It might mean I would get laid, which was certainly a huge plus for me. At this point in my life, most of my sexual experience involved hand lotion and Kleenex. Everything I knew was gleaned from the men’s magazines my father used to leave laying around. But it also might mean my life was over. It sounded like Savannah had no room in my life for other girls—not that there were other girls, so I didn’t dwell too long on this point. I decided that it didn’t bother me that she was all-in. I could deal with it. And if the relationship became too toxic, there must be fifty ways to leave your lover (thanks, Paul Simon!).

“So, what are your hang-ups—wait. Before you answer, I have to tell you my super most important hang-up. I demand complete and total honesty. So, be honest when you tell me what your hang-ups are.

“Being on time,” I shot back because it came so immediately to mind.

“Ouch!” Savannah said. “I’m sorry I was late. I got hung up with a customer.”

“I wasn’t saying that to scold you. It just popped into my mind.”

“Ok. What else?”

“I hate practical jokes.”

“Ok. Good to know. What else?”

“I can’t think of anything else.”

“Do I frighten you?” she asked.

“Huh?” anadolu yakası escort I asked, confused at the question.

“Does my domineering clinginess frighten you or suffocate you?”

“No,” I answered honestly, “but it’s only been ten minutes.”

“Good point,” she said, relaxing somewhat. “But tell me if I get to be too much for you. I guess I just need to be needed and wanted and so I can be overwhelming. Or so I’ve been told.”

Her voice trailed off a bit on that last sentence. I guessed that her clinginess had had disastrous consequences for her previous relationships.

“You have a lot of failed relationships?” I asked cautiously.

“This one’s looking promising,” she said. “But, yeah, I tend to get all wound up only to find that boys think I’m easy and once they find out I won’t fuck them, they’re gone.”

If I was drinking anything, it would have come out my nose at that point. As it was, the only casualty was my hope of getting laid.

“I might fuck you, though.” She looked at me and I knew she meant it. Her face backed up her words.

“Why me when none of the others qualified?”

“Because you really like my ass,” she answered. “And I want you to have it.”

“I hope I know what to do with it,” I thought out loud. Oops.

“I hope you don’t. That way I can train you.”

“I look forward to that,” I said as we pulled into McDonalds. I started to pull into a parking space and she stopped me.

“Just do drive through,” she said. “I don’t want to waste your training time sitting in McDonalds.” I changed course and entered the drive through lane. “How do you feel about handcuffs?”

My head snapped in her direction. I wanted to see if she was serious, or just goading me.

“Not for you,” she said after seeing my panicked reaction, “for me. I’ve always wanted to see what it would be like. I think I trust you enough to cuff me and have your way with me.”

“Are you for real?” I asked, beginning to think I had crossed into the Twilight Zone.

“What? You don’t want to?”

“No. It’s not that. I absolutely want to. I just can’t believe you’re seriously making that offer. We really don’t know each other at all.” A voice inside my head kept saying, “shut up! Are you trying to talk her out of it, you moron?”

“I know. You’re right. We only just met. But I know you want me. I can sense it. And I know that you want to be loved and accepted just like I do. I feel like we have that connection. I know it sounds crazy, but I know that we can be soulmates. You want me. I want you. I want to give myself to you. I hope that you’ll give yourself to me too. I know you have walls. That’s okay. In time, they’ll come down. We’ll be so happy together . . . .” Her voice trailed off as she got lost in her own blissful train of thought.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked. We were next in line for the drive-up.

“Quarter Pounder meal. Coke.”

“Want it upsized?”

“Want my butt to get even bigger?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Regular size is fine.”

I placed our order.

“Are you sensitive about how your butt looks?”

“And my tiny boobs,” Savannah said with discontent.

“Are they tiny?” I asked, scanning her chest to see if they were. I hadn’t really paid much attention to her chest, because it was her ass that caught my attention. From what I could see now, her breasts appeared to be adequate, though I supposed she could be wearing a heavily padded bra. Nevertheless, as long as she had breasts, I was likely to be satisfied. I was never in the camp of those who preferred large breasts. It seemed to me that larger breasts generally occurred with larger everything-else and that slender girls with large breasts were the exception rather than the rule. And even then, larger usually meant more sag—and I did not like saggy breasts. Sure, I’d seen girls with small saggy breasts, too, but they seemed less common. I didn’t think there had ever been a comprehensive survey of breast shapes and sizes and the frequency of one type over another. All of this, I considered, was probably moot. Savannah’s breast were what they were whether they fell within the range of my preferred shape and size or not. If they did, I was quite fortunate. If they did not, I knew it would be something best kept to myself.

“Well they’re not big, so don’t get your hopes up,” she answered. “You’ll see soon enough. Then you can decide.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” I assured her. “Tits don’t have to be big to be good.”

Savannah gave me directions to her house, only a few blocks away. It was in a newer subdivision in what I considered the fancy part of town. I consoled myself with the thought that she couldn’t be too much of a spoiled rich girl if she had to work at Buy-Mart. Perhaps. But her house was much larger than I was used to and richly appointed, but not ostentatious. She led me to her bedroom, which was easily twice as large as mine, and had its own private full bathroom.

“Where are your atalar escort folks?” I asked, suddenly noticing their absence.

“Out of town,” she answered. “They won’t be back until next week. We have the whole house all to ourselves. We can do whatever we like.”

She sat on a comfortable looking sofa and began eating her dinner. I sat next to her and did the same. The notion of “whatever we like” hung in the air like Spanish moss from Florida trees. I pondered just what it was that I’d like to do, given that Savannah had already divulged that she wanted to be tied up. Tie her up, sure, but then what? I’ll admit I wasn’t very imaginative or adventurous. Just the thought of tying her up was already unfamiliar territory. Soon, we were done eating and it was time to face my fears.

“I made these cuffs out of Velcro,” she said, handing them over to me. They were just strips of cloth, soft like flannel on the inside with Velcro sewn to the outside. There were four of them, each with a D-ring embedded, presumably for fastening ropes, which she also supplied. “You can tie me spread-eagle, upside down or right-side up, or even doggy style if you want. And then you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” I asked, hoping to glean the limits of what ‘anything’ actually encompassed.’

“Well, I would hope you wouldn’t do anything that causes too much pain—spanking is okay—but nothing that’ll cause injury or leave a mark. Other than that,” she shrugged, “my body is your playtoy.”

At this, my heart leapt within me. (My cock gave a start, too!) I felt like I’d won the sex lottery. I could do whatever I wanted. Anything. I didn’t waste any more time. I told Savannah to shed every stitch of clothing she had on and climb up on the bed, which she did hastily. I fastened the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and then passed ropes through each of them and fastened them to the bedposts. When I had finished, she was spread-eagle and helpless on the bed.

I didn’t just rush to jump on top of her and fuck. Instead I took the time to leisurely inspect her body. She had been right about her tits. They were small, but they were firm. Even laying flat on the bed, her tits stood proudly atop her chest, waiting for me to do anything I wanted. So I did. I sucked them. I licked them, and, at Savannah’s urging, pinched and tugged them. I was wary of treating such tender objects so roughly, but the way her nipples stiffened I knew it was just what she liked.

I then worked my way down to her pussy. She had pubic hair, which I was happy to see. It was not an unruly nest, but lush and neatly trimmed. I could see her juices leaking out from between her swollen labia in abundance. The girl was soaking wet! I explored first with my fingers, then with my tongue. The girl had good hygiene and going down on her was a pleasure. I had heard horror stories from some of my buddies who had been fortunate enough to engage in the practice of cunnilingus before me.

After driving Savannah into a frenzy with my tongue—apparently, I did something right—I decided it was time to do the deed. I stripped off all my clothes and climbed aboard. This was nothing impressive on my part. I didn’t know what I was doing. I did manage to get it inside her which might have been more difficult than it was if it weren’t for the fact that she was so lubricated. Once inside, I did what came naturally. Of course, it felt wonderful and in short order, I was shooting my load inside her. It was the first time I had ever cum inside a woman. In the past, both times, the girls would insist that I pull out before I came. I didn’t really think about pregnancy until just this moment.

“Birth control?” I asked as I pulled my flaccid penis out from between her legs.

“Helluva time to ask,” she said. “But, yeah. I’m good.”

I had just climbed down off the bed when I heard a sound to my right.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed the lithe brunette who walked unannounced into the room. “I can’t believe you actually did it!”

“Oh my gosh, Miranda! What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Um, same thing I always do. How was I supposed to know you were having an orgy?”

“It’s not an orgy,” Savannah said, obviously flustered.

“But it could be,” Miranda said sinisterly. Then she looked at me, extending a hand. “I’m Miranda,” she said. I took her hand and shook it, suddenly very aware that I, too, was standing very naked in front of a total stranger—though I wasn’t tied to the bedframe. “He’s a good one,” she said to Savannah as though I wasn’t there. “Did you tell him you like to be peed on?” she asked Savannah, again ignoring the fact that I was standing right in front of her.

“What?” I asked, somewhat shocked—as though things could get any weirder.

“Miranda!” Savannah protested, although, being tied to the bed, she was hardly in a position to stop anyone from doing anything.

“She told me she wanted to be tied up and abused . . . and pissed on,” Miranda revealed. “And, here she is . . . so I just assumed . . . .”

“Is ataşehir escort that true?” I asked Savannah, who nodded in response, her cheeks turning bright red.

“So, you should do it,” Miranda urged.

“She did tell me I could do anything . . . “

“Really?” Miranda asked calculatingly. “Does that go for me as well, Savannah?”

“Sure,” Savannah said weakly, resigned to her fate.

“Oh goody!” Miranda said, then, addressing me, “kiss me.”

“Huh?”

“We’re going to give Savannah just what she wants. First, we’re going to piss on her. All over her, her face, her body, her pussy. And then, we’re going to fuck right here in front of her. Make her watch. And then, well, we might have her lick our assholes or something.”

“Miranda!” Savannah protested, but I could tell it was only for show. It was obvious that Savannah was extremely turned on by the prospect of being so abused.

Miranda pulled me toward her and kissed me. After the shock wore off, the kiss did what kisses do. So I kissed her back. It was suddenly wrong and wonderful. In the back of my mind, and receding further every moment, I didn’t want to betray Savannah. She had given herself to me without reservation—literally—and so I felt some allegiance to her. And yet . . . Miranda, who had already shed most of her clothing.

“How long have you been dating?” Miranda asked as she discarded the last of her clothing in a heap.

“A few hours,” I answered. Suddenly my allegiance level seemed unwarranted.

“Don’t you have to pee?” she asked me.

“As a matter of fact,” I answered, “I do.”

Miranda suggested that I straddle Savannah and piss right in her face.

“But you’ll get my bed all wet!” Savannah complained.

“Well I guess you better drink every drop, then, eh?” Miranda said without compassion.

“I thought you were my friend,” Savannah whined.

“And that is why I’m helping all your dreams come to life,” Miranda answered. “Fire when ready, Romeo.”

Pissing into a girl’s mouth was the most surreal thing I’d ever experienced. No toilet, no bush or shrub, but here, in the house, on a bed, straddling a girl I’d only just met hours ago, and I was pissing in her mouth. Like a trooper, she guzzled it all down. When I had finished, Miranda took my place and did the same. I have to admit that watching Miranda piss in her girlfriend’s mouth was one of the most erotic things I’d ever witnessed. By the time she was done, I was hard again.

“Oh goody! Miranda said upon seeing my rigid member. “Fuck me with that stiff cock of yours, Romeo.”

Now didn’t seem like a good time to mention that my name wasn’t Romeo. Instead, I got up on the bed next to Savanna, and Miranda mounted my pole. I can’t describe how much of a turn on it was to be with two hot, naked women in the same bed, one riding my cock and the other looking on helplessly.

“Oh, baby, your dick feels so good inside me. Fuck me with that cock. Cum inside me. I want your hot cum in my cunt, baby.”

I’m not sure if it was because she just felt so damned good, or if it was the dirty encouragement, but I gave her what she asked for, shooting load after load of hot sperm inside her. In one afternoon, I’d doubled the number of times I’d been fucked and had come inside both times.

“Your boyfriend has a great cock,” Miranda said to Savannah who had grown conspicuously quiet. “What do you have to say to that? Answer me, bitch!” and she slapped Savannah’s tits.

“My boyfriend has a great cock,” Savannah repeated.

“Now it’s almost time for the asslicking,” she said, and removed the Velcro restraints from Savannah’s wrists.

“And to think I was all excited about getting to lick Savannah’s ass,” I muttered.

“Oh, honey, you still can,” Miranda said. “But why don’t you lick mine first while Savannah is busy licking yours. Later, we can switch, and you can lick hers while she is licking mine.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Savannah, your boyfriend’s cum is leaking out of my pussy. You need to lick that shit up. Come on. Suck all your boyfriend’s cum out of my cunt.”

I watched, transfixed, as my latest sex partner had her cunt eaten out by my latest girlfriend. In the back of my mind, I knew this was going to be a mess, but for now, I just watched.

And then came the asslicking as directed by Miranda. Miranda had good hygiene, too, but her ass still tasted like . . . ass, at least for the first couple minutes. I licked her ass while she fingered herself and soon, she was getting off. Me? Well, it’s hard to describe what it’s like to have someone lick your ass. It wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the contrary. But neither was it erotic. At least not for me. I actually liked licking ass better than having mine licked. A psychiatrist could probably explain why, but I didn’t really give a shit. It was what it was. I suppose it was good that I enjoyed asslicking, because I got to do it again while Savannah took her turn at Miranda’s ass. Savannah truly did have a great ass. A tad on the large side, but when she was bent over, it was fucking perfect. And I ate it up—literally.

“What should we do now?” Miranda asked once we had finished. She had clearly taken charge of the proceedings. “Oh! I know! Let’s get James here strung up on the bed so we can have our way with him. How ’bout it James? You up for getting a little tied up?” A wicked grin appeared on Miranda’s quite attractive face.